CLAW 2024

THE CLAW THE COUGAR LITERARY, ART, AND WRITING MAGAZINE Volume VIII • 2024 Cedar Creek School • Ruston, LA

The Claw, Volume VIII, 2024 Head of School: Connie Bradford Faculty Adviser: Jill Myers Art Instructors: Chase Lenard and Garson Woodard Layout & Design: Caty Simmons Student Editor: Evie Stake Cover Art: Chloe Jackson Heading Art: Hanna Hiers, Anna Grace Johnson, Allie Jones, Madeline Kneeland, Rosemary Sewell, Zoey Venters

The Cougar Literary, Art, and Writing Magazine (The CLAW) is modeled after its predecessor, Cougar Reflections, which showcased the work of Cedar Creek Students for three decades under the direction of faculty advisor Pat Haworth.

The original cover art for Cougar Reflections (above) was designed by Donnie Barmore.

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CONTRIBUTORS Middle School Writing

High School Writing

Ainsley Bridges Kingston Culpepper Davis Durrett Cason Floyd Hadley Gatlin Jasmine Gill Georgia Green Jamie Lynn Hilburn Layla Jeansonne Charlotte Jones Evan Lancaster Gabe Miller Averie Moon Saanvi Patel Lauren Pearce Preslee Prince Jillian Ramsey Frances Sewell Juliette Sewell Micah Taylor Mary Claire Temple Sydney Vance Thomas Waller Henry Walpole

Avery Bethea Paxton Burney Aiden Crosby Izabella DiGiovanni Olivia Ferrell Triston Floyd Gabe Garcia Mady Garcia Olivia Green Kennedy Hall Myles Head-Carpenter Annabelle Hockenjos Sydney Hood Anna Grace Johnson Gracie Jones Savanna Kilbride Harshaan Lally Alivia Lee Joseph Luffey Anna Malsam Anne Claire Maxwell Madison Morris James Myers Kaleb Negrotto Gracie Parker Annalise Paul Beau Phillips Adrianna Robbins Cannon Robbins Luke Roy

Rosemary Sewell Aubrey Singleton Mallory Smith Katelyn Taylor Brandon Ward Kenna Williams

Art Ainsley Dement Hayden Durrett Liam Durrett Felicity Hunt Chloe Jackson Ava Lantrip Anna Malsam Bryce Martin Will Myers Camden Napper Henry Patton Evie Stake Mallory Waller Kenna Williams Kate Wood

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“Under the Bright Summer Sun”

By Olivia Green, Class of 2027 I walk out of the house And find a boundless field of wildflowers.

Of lilies And daisies And lavender.

Full of depth and color.

I hear the wind whisking through the open air.

And the sound of the stream Breaking over rocks and plants on the ground.

With the sun beaming down on my face, I lay on the blanket on the ground And admire the clouds.

The beauty of God’s creation Unfolds all around me.

And I can see His perfect design And find peace listening to the Sounds of nature.

“The beauty of gaming”

By Harshaan Lally, Class of 2027 Gaming can be the clicking of buttons or the movement of a mouse But really it’s just the loss of reality The loss of what makes you present in the moment

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It can be an escape It can be a vicarious experience for the person playing You can be a wizard, a soldier, a hunter Anything that a mind can conjure can be made from flashing pictures Faster than we can comprehend The beauty of gaming isn’t a waste Gaming isn’t Dissociation from existence but a forming of ideas The beauty of gaming is the conjuring of the imagination

“Song lyrics”

By Triston Floyd, Class of 2025 Gossip girls Always yappin’ Always snappin’ Talking trash and spending daddy’s cash Frustrating the teacher Going to church to pray with the preacher.

Back stabbin’ Mouth yappin’ Putting on a fake face for a crowd So they can make their momma and daddy proud

“My Backpack”

By James Myers, Class of 2025

“good night my old friend”

By Adrianna Robbins, Class of 2024

My backpack frowned at me whilst I stuffed papers into it.

“I ache” it says but I keep stuffing, “The weight of Knowledge” I say trying to reassure it.

At the beginning of the year the backpack was light with only the internal organs of binders and folders in it, Now the backpack is full of papers, with the innermost seams begging to rip, “STOP IT” it screams but I cannot, The burden it carries is heavy.

“More work, more knowledge” I mutter.

Now instead of papers, I stack books, The books are heavy and the backpack screams “HELP ME” but I mustn’t stop, The safety and welfare of this backpack is much less important than the pursuit of knowledge.

I keep stacking heavier and heavier books The thread struggles to hold the seams together I try to comfort it, but in a moment’s time The backpack had sputtered out its last breath, And in one instant it ripped. Wisdom and knowledge oozed from the bag, And left the bag laying there motionless.

‘Maybe I overloaded it’ I thought. I picked up the bag and laid it in its final resting place

the moon is bright tonight hello old friend how have you been? my closest companion my first friend shining through the tree branches to see me to ask me how i am my old friend, the moon talking to you is simple words flow out with ease you listen, blinking steadily lighting up a spot in the dark of the night thank you, my friend i’ll sleep well tonight with you watching over me rest well in the day as i think of you we will meet again soon good night my old friend

I collected my books, papers, and pencils, And began stuffing them into another backpack

James Myers, Class of 2025

“Tis a Page-Turning Poem”

By Gracie Jones, Class of 2027 To read or not to read That is the question.

Whether tis fiction or non-fiction Thou can find the perfect fit Be not afraid of ink on a page, But of your own imagination The monsters that will arise And the villains that are born.

The hero and the damsel The star-crossed lovers And the death-defying vigilantes.

T’was the cliffhanger that Brought about this late night.

Stories aren’t for the faint of heart, but for the courageous souls and those of strength.

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“Dear Pawpaw” By: Anna Grace Johnson, Class of 2025 Dear Pawpaw, From my childhood till now, you’ve always held a special place in my heart.

Of course, I love all my grandparents, But you and I have always had that special connection.

From sarcastic jokes to firefighter stories to Zoo visits to picnics at Kees Park.

From nicknames to useful advice to Early morning “room service” to late night Dairy Queen runs, Our memories are some that I will never forget.

You make my life better just by being in it, And I can never thank you enough for all you have done: Taught me useful life skills, Made me laugh when times were hard, And always justified getting a sweet treat because “Hey, why not!”

I’m so thankful that when I type in the address to your house, It now is only a 16-minute drive instead of an hour and 47 minutes.

Although I will sort of miss it.

The drive to Sombreros for Mexican food, The train rides around the zoo, And even the crazy drivers of Alexandria.

But nothing has made me more grateful than you moving closer to us.

Memories from my childhood with you are definitely core memories in my brain, But there is always room for more!

Now I get to appreciate our last-minute supper dates And sitting with each other at church.

The occasional family get-together And the random visits to see me at work.

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These things might seem like they never mattered, And that is completely my fault for not saying so, But your presence is one that has framed who I am today.

And for that I say, “Thank you.”

Thank you for always being the one person who just completely understood me.

I love you forever. xoxo, G-girl

“Powerlifting Meet”

By Kenna Williams, Class of 2027 Spend minutes that feel like hours to put on a skin-tight suit.

Run to the warm-up room.

Sprint back to the platform so you’re not late.

Try to calm your nerves by blasting music through the headphones on your head.

Watch the spotters load weight on the bar.

Think about everything that could go wrong.

The hours you spent perfecting the craft you love.

The blood, sweat, and tears you have given for this moment.

Walk through the steps in your head.

Trust in your coaches, but more importantly, yourself.

Walk under the bar.

Lift off the weight.

Listen to the crowd cheering for you.

Ignore the pain.

Lock out the weight.

Get the white lights that everyone dreams of.

Get the medal and ring that everyone works years to achieve.

“My Little Buddy”

By Madison Morris, Class of 2027

“Golf Is Like Life”

By Paxton Burney, Class of 2027

Everyone in this world is individually different, Like their own star in the galaxy.

Each star shines in different shades, sizes, and figures, But his shines especially bright.

Like the North Star, a blazing shimmer, Casting light like a torch of ember.

Instead of the shade of the clouds engulfing the moon, This light shines in its own special way.

While the draining sadness and loneliness continues to mark the world, Casting shadows upon each little star, The light dying inside every little joyful heart.

Even through the tears, the rage, the wrath, and the pain, My little buddy still smiles in his own innocence and love.

Golf is one of the hardest sports in the world.

Just because you hit one ball great That does not mean you will hit them all the same.

It is more of a mental game than a game of skill.

If you get down on yourself or get mad then you will crumble.

The sport that you loved on the last hole Is the sport you hate the most on the next.

You need to spend time being happy about the good shots Not being sad and mad about the bad shots You can only control what you can control If you’re having a bad round Remember that good ones are to come So stay positive while you are playing And don’t leave with a frown You can only play for so long And it will fly right by Don’t waste your time being mad Spend your time looking at the good And you will find happiness

As if the world never fazed his weaknesses, As if his disability became his ability and his power, No matter what gruesome and invading words come his way, No matter how much resentment his sister feels for his foes, He still smiles. Laughs. Loves.

He inspires many, as well as myself, as his sister, Enlightening the world with his light among the shadows.

He lifted the veil of shade I felt, even for the ones unkind to him, So that my star could shine bright like his own, With his own selflessness, care, and love.

He is the most loving, precious little brother I could ever ask for.

He will always be my little buddy, The brightest star in my eyes in the night sky, And no storm, no cloud, and no shadow could ever change that.

“Tsunami the cowboy”

By Myles Head-Carpenter, Class of 2026 The gallop, shaking the earth to its core.

The horse, a earth rumbling steed, Is left by his colossal, tall, wide, cowboy.

Every step replaced by a crashing wave.

He scrambles, destroying everything in sight.

With his boots, blue as the sea, and his hat, white as a wave.

His whip; a whirlpool, taking everything with him.

His eyes, an abyss; with deep lines, like a current.

And as fast as he came, he leaves.

Leaving nothing but destruction.

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“Order in The Court”

By Annabelle Hockenjos, Class of 2027 Judge says ORDER ORDER IN THE COURT People yelling People screaming People throwing their chairs But no one’s intervening.

You’d think this was A world affair How’s this going to end?

Maybe they’ll make amends Maybe we can walk out of here as friends And hang out on the weekends Take a break for recess Maybe cross the monkey bars of doubt Climb the ladder of grieving suspects To get to the top of the slide of regret Back in the courtroom now.

What if he’s found guilty?

I’m sure it will work out—somehow Good thing he’s not blood guilty.

Right?

Maybe he’ll get a minimum sentence Maybe he can plead repentance I hear something Not sure what, but it’s earsplitting I don’t know what’s happening But the term anarchic seems fitting Did that guy just throw his shoe?

ORDER ORDER Will that be for here or to go?

Wrong kind of order Plaintiff started a fire Because the defendant is set free It’s reminiscent of an episode of Glee

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So much for “orderly and professional” We’re past the point of amendable.

Now only idiocy lies and waits in the corners.

Confusion and dysfunctionality creep closer Till the floor starts to crack Then it’s ashes, ashes, We all fall down…

Backtrack Lights flickering Chaos lurking Lawyers bickering And the roaring fires in the distance So, this is what court is like Less professional More clownlike The jury is back with their verdict Guilty GUILTY But how?

He can’t be guilty He’s a highbrow That attorney just got fired And that witness just Wasted their weekend testifying.

Guess it all backfired The family, friends, and peers All shed a few tears But it’s useless Outside the courtroom Our everyday conversations resume And we act as if the past events Don’t require logical precedents So that’s court.

AKA: a place that makes Shreveport, Look safe

“Stanley”

By Mady Garcia, Class of 2027

“my friends, like the sun”

By Adrianna Robbins, Class of 2024

The one and only Who overtook the world With their unique colors And shapes The sound of waves crashing in a storm One mistake And it’s all done for The battle scars show up From topple after topple Stainless steel armer All the pink and blues and greens and yellows The Stanley, where thirst meets triumph

my friends, like the sun gently spilling light over the horizon a new era starts free from the dark ice melts, fog clears by noon my adversaries burn in scorching heat by 3 nothing is left but ashes setting slowly, a golden hue covers the earth shedding a positive light on worries my heart overflows with love. my friends, like the rain steadily falling water hits the ground bringing to life the surrounding nature flowers grow, birds play soon the ashes of my problems are carried to a river soon they are out to sea droplets calmly cleanse the earth to start anew a rainbow reflects from the downpour a smile forms upon my lips. my friends, like the moon brightly glowing down through the clouds giving company to the night bats fly, children sleep pushing, the tide moves the sea in waves pushing all worries far away shining solemnly, the traveler can see in the light i realize i’m not lonely through the night closing my eyes, i drift off to sleep. my friends, like the sun the rain the moon

“Summer”

By Gracie Parker, Class of 2027 Sweet breeze Ocean waves Sun burns Lake days Sunshine Ice cream Wasting time Watching the Summer I Turned Pretty Laying out Reading a book Going about Shorts and tops Swimsuits for days Flip flops Sun rays

Hayden Durrett, Class of 2027

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“My Mother’s Love”

By Aubrey Singleton, Class of 2027

“Leaving It Behind (Graduation)”

By Katelyn Taylor, Class of 2024

She would choose me Rain or shine.

Thunder or clear skies.

She would always love me.

Matter of fact, she promised Even at my darkest times, And my brightest lies.

She would still be there.

Even when I cried.

Even when I smiled.

Especially when I tried.

So, I guess I’ll believe her when she says; “I’m staying by your side, rain or shine.”

It all blends together, day after day after day after day.

Rain, more rain, clouds, a day of sun, sudden thunderstorms.

A blur of repeats and struggles, it just keeps going.

I think I might miss it one day. (Probably not)

“Untitled”

By Beau Phillips, Class of 2025 Basketball, the best sport to play.

Anyone could play basketball, Tall or short, heavy or light, Any player could succeed.

The shining hardwood floor, The course, yet soft leather ball.

The feeling of hitting a big shot, Nothing feels better.

The crowd roaring, Support from your coaches and teammates.

The leather ball shot through the air, Falls right through the nylon.

Swoosh echoes through the gym.

The crowd erupts with cheers, The hugs from your teammates The approval from your coach, Your team just won the game.

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The frequent meetings with friends are nice.

The sunny days are warm and relaxing.

Eventually, you become acquainted with the workloads.

Not the change though.

The change is not nice.

Not relaxing or warm.

You don’t get used to the change.

It happens, whether you like it or not.

You cannot control the change.

There is no setting back the clock, it will keep ticking.

You cannot freeze it in place, lest you get left behind. Responsibilities do not stop and remain as they are.

Change is scary.

Alarming. Shocking. Terrifying. Dreadful.

Disturbing. Horrendous. Threatening.

I am leaving soon.

Leaving it behind.

All of it.

I am changing.

“Powerlifting”

By Avery Bethea, Class of 2025 Inspired by Carl Sandburg’s “Chicago”

“Waves of emotion”

By Cannon Robbins, Class of 2025 Inspired by Walt Whitman

My favorite sport, Strength builder, stress releaser, exhilarating State champions of powerlifting, Sport of pain:

The deep dark sea The waves growing larger Becoming taller and taller Swallowing, No remorse for the ship, The waves take over the sea

They tell me you are dangerous, and I believe them, for I Have observed people as lifters pass out with hundreds of pounds.

On their backs.

And they tell me you are painful, and I agree, Because I am clothed in bruises and feel the exhaustion In every muscle!

But even though they are right.

I tell them how amazing my sport can be.

A sport where you drive yourself past your limits.

To show how you can accomplish strenuous things!

To get a team that will support you through every challenge.

And claim victory because of collective contribution, The strength building, stress releasing, Champions of Powerlifting, Another step forward towards Greatness, With every feeling of pain

And my emotions do the same They are slowly taking over Drowning in anger Except there is a light of day, And hope, For me to be saved from the sea

“The Ford Truck”

By Joseph Luffey, Class of 2025 Inspired by William Carlos Williams “The Red Wheelbarrow” So much joy For The white ford Truck Covered with red Mud Parked upon the open Field

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“Untitled”

By Gabe Garcia, Class of 2025 Inspired by Carl Sandburg’s “Chicago” I love the NBA The NBA has been a part of my life from the very beginning Some people hate the NBA They say it’s soft They say it’s too one sided They say it’s rigged I say to the naysayers, the NBA is still as fun as ever It’s more competitive than ever The league is arguably the most talented it’s ever been I love watching games from the present To thirty years in the past I’ve loved watching players since the beginning I’ve loved Steph Curry Ray Allen Derrick Rose Tyrese Haliburton Klay Thompson Stephen Jackson Damian Lillard Chris Mullin Kobe Bryant Andre Iguodala All of those are my favorite players I love watching the playoffs and finals too I’ve watched so many classic playoff series Every close game seven is an automatic classic So please, give the NBA a chance Whether you’re a casual or a die hard You’ll enjoy it.

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“Untitled”

By Savanna Kilbride, Class of 2025 Inspired by Emily Dickinson’s “Tell all the Truth but tell it slant” What is truth – It is not absence of Lies A truth – itself isn’t based in Facts – A truth – is it not – but just an opinion While an opinion must be – only a truth – Of self-expression Is what one considers poetry –

“Because I do not stop for anxiety”

By Sydney Hood, Class of 2025 Inspired by Emily Dickinson’s “Because I could not stop for Death” Because I will not stop for you – Because life will not – You steal me from moments that should be my own, And I’m getting tired of being absent No longer will you dictate my mind – I have reclaimed it –

“The Candle”

By Brandon Ward, Class of 2025 Inspired by William Carlos Williams’s “This is Just to Say” I did burn Up the rest Of the candle That we both Usually save For pouring days And nights.

I’m sorry, as I Could not Turn down its Welcoming Smell.

“Untitled”

By Aidan Crosby, Class of 2025 Inspired by Emily Dickinson’s “I heard a fly buzz when I died” There was red when I took a break from life The weight tearing into my hands The only sound I hear is a dull roar The only thing I can see is a tunnel of red Everyone around me is screaming My body is shaking upwards I lock out and drop the weight And like the weight I fall, too I strained more than my brain could bear Now on the ground I lay Random lights and sounds flashing All as my body seizes I wake not knowing the area Or the faces that peer on Now I gather my surroundings I have been out for 15 long

Anna Malsam, Class of 2027

“New Orleans”

By Kaleb Negrotto, Class of 2025 Inspired by Carl Sandburg’s “Chicago New OrleansCity of jazz and culture, Gleefully distributing opportunity to those who seek it.

The mixing pot of the world, Little parts of history on every street corner.

They say you are evil, and they have fair reason, You lead the country in murder per capita, One never needs to look far to find something foul.

Strange odors seem to be ineludible, People living in poverty, littering the city.

Nevertheless, you cannot find a place with more pride in their city, Than the proud city of Nola.

When faced with tremendous adversity in 2005, The city never seemed so alive, People helping others without hesitation, You have the heart of a lion, never faltering.

People impoverished by pure circumstance, but given shelter in the Super Dome, New Orleans, Rapid waters destroyed your beauty, But you Cleaned upRebuiltYou are now, Reborn.

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“America”

By Luke Roy, Class of 2025 Inspired by Carl Sandburg’s “Chicago” The eagle’s eye across the world, Great power, stronghold of democracy The master of geopolitical games; Unbound, Outreaching, Unified.

Nation of Freedom Unbound: The unknowing tell me you are ruthless, unforgiving With your military might and exponential budget.

They tell me of your corruption and misdeeds For we have seen as such here in a promised land.

Murderers, dealers, and criminals alike will roam Upon our streets and neighborhoods.

Oh, how those Europeans tell us of our racial stint, and the Arabs Our partaking in their world-changing domain.

Oh, I tell you, yes woeful patriots, lost in grief over shallow Insults made to asunder.

No more I say, no more of their decadence and unwillingness!

For they do not know of our splendor and our unity, For which their lands pray for.

We have tired ourselves, sending forth across vast oceans To lands which lay undiscovered and rich in life.

Then they owned us like dogs, yet our chains were broken.

Freedom let loose, once and for all eternity.

Here we stand amidst amongst the ridiculous, standing tall Like McKinleys heights.

Commanding, Showing, Giving, Uniting!

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The smog of war and terror made us stronger than before For which they are trembling greatly.

We hath made destiny manifest in our wake and We shall do the same again.

To the patriot within, laugh at will, bring forth your national pride.

Know you are the heart of this nation, the heart Of true uncompromising American life.

Do you not realize, why not have history, when you Oh, you the worker, the employer, the trekkers, The homesteaders, the citizen himself!

Can make history.

Kate Wood, Class of 2029

“Ruston”

By Mallory Smith, Class of 2025 Inspired by Carl Sandburg’s “Chicago” Peach Capital of the World, Home of the Bulldogs, Church on Every Corner, Richest town per capita, Piney Woods, Rolling Hills, Southern, Louisiana’s College Town They tell me you are segregated, and I believe them, for I have seen your north of I-20 and south of I-20 largely dividing extreme wealth from severe poverty.

And they tell me you are snooty, and I answer: Yes, it is true I have witnessed immigrants be ignored or pushed far from traditional friend circles.

Resilient as a Lotus flower arising out of the muck, refusing to let the things of this world destroy, Indestructible, Progressing, Serving, Loving, Prideful, Friendly, Community.

As a boxer, lying on the mat as the referee begins a count to ten.

Fighting a previously unbeaten opponent, he’s hurting, exhausted, and dejected.

Rising to his feet and finding new strength, energy, fortitude, and focus.

Demolishing the forces that wish to tear us apart, refusing defeat, and proud to be Peach Capital of the World, Home of the Bulldogs, Piney Woods, Rolling Hills, Southern, Louisiana’s College Town

And they tell me you are showy and my reply is: on bodies of women and children I have seen the clothes that are simply to impress.

And having answered so I turn once more to those who criticize my city, and I give them back a Southern smile and say to them: Come show me another city who works together to overcome the destructive forces of mother nature’s fiercest destructive winds and rebuild.

Businesses and volunteers rallying together overnight to feed the poorest of society after five days of rare, majestic ice closed their schools.

Anna Malsam, Class of 2027

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“Ode to Piano” By: Rosemary Sewell, Class of 2025

“Ode to Piano” By: Anne Claire Maxwell, Class of 2025

Thirteen years of self-hatred, oppression, and torture.

The most attention seeking instrument, with never ending practice and tears.

Banging against the ivory keys with anger, hearing the screeching sound of “music.”

On the rare occasion there is focus, The musical beast can create a sweet harmony.

Soothing the ears Of anyone who hears.

The pain is present, Most don’t realize it.

The effort is worth the reward, But what about my free time?

Oh, piano how you sing.

Your keys touch my soul.

Oh, how your ivory keys brush my skin.

Creating a sweet melody.

A dance if you will, Between artist and instrument.

You cure the ache in my soul.

The longing in my heart for expression.

“Ode to Little Sisters” By: Rosemary Sewell, Class of 2025

When I am weak and weary you give me comfort through your sounds.

Oh, how beautiful you are.

You have no bounds.

From Mozart to Queen, you change the world.

The first note that plays give way to a new era.

You give me a way to create.

When an artist, I am not.

I need neither pencil, nor pen, nor canvas, nor brush.

All I need is you, to make way for something new.

Loud squeaky drama queens, Middle school cannon events, Surrounding their lives.

So much they need to hear, For their own protection.

But the experiences, Are part of the cycle.

Gossiping, Crying, Bullying, It’s all part of the age.

Body image issues, Come in large waves.

They’re only eleven, When am I going to say, These things won’t define The rest of their days.

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But when I miss a beat or play the wrong key, Oh, the pain I feel.

You have taught me much throughout our time together.

The mistakes I make when working with you give me determination to see my song through.

“Anti-Ode to Poetry” By: Anna Grace Johnson, Class of 2025 Why poetry of all things?

Human nature is Finding something To dislike.

The possibilities are endless.

Mayonnaise, Blue cheese, Heights, The dark.

For me though, Poetry.

Poetry is my mayonnaise.

Poetry is my blue cheese.

Although appreciated by many, it is not loved by me.

Sonnets, Ballads, Limericks, Free verse.

I hate it all.

Every last bit Of it.

To some, Poetry is all things good!

Human nature Is also finding something You love.

Ice cream, Sunsets, Iced coffees, Or even, everything showers.

Find your passion, Figure out what you love, Just don’t make it poetry.

Whatever you do, Don’t find love there.

The feeling when hearing, “It’s poetry week!”

Is almost as bad as hearing, “The school has run out of Cafeteria cookies!”

Hearing those words

Invokes a truly awful feeling.

So, in the end, Whatever your passion may be, Drawing, singing, cooking, Just don’t let it be poetry!!

And I only say this because Poetry is my mayonnaise.

“Ode to Mardi Gras” By: Kennedy Hall, Class of 2027 Colorful strands cover the ground.

Representing justice, faith, and power The color of gold Shining like the sun Green As emerald glows Purple The color of nobility and royalty While beads are common It’s a treat to get a cup.

A frisbee is cool.

Even a stuffed animal is fun.

Watching the faces go by on the floats.

One by one All covered in masks Identities hidden.

The taste of king cake And the smell of beignets All cover the streets of New Orleans It might be the jazz band playing Or even the Voo-Doo magic But there is nothing quite like Mardi Gras

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“An Ode to My Childhood Dog” By: Annalise Paul, Class of 2025

“Ode to Books” By: Anne Claire Maxwell, Class of 2025

I remember the first time we met.

Your white fur and brown eyes caught my attention.

When I arrived home from school that day, I remember being so surprised and delighted.

You have watched me come home everyday since.

We have gone on many walks together.

As well as shared a lot of memories together.

You have also chewed up many toys and muddied up your paws when it rains.

You will set the bar for every dog that I have after you.

For I know that even though you are bringing me so much joy as a young girl, I know that you will break my heart one day.

Oh book, you beautiful creature.

You artist, crafter, world creator.

How you never disappoint me when I want to get away.

Your pages are a whirlwind of emotion.

The elegant words, how they flow.

To bring a story to life only one can know.

“Ode to basketball” By: Alivia Lee, Class of 2027 The countless hours in the gym.

The late nights And the early mornings.

The good memories.

And even the bad memories.

Joy is present everywhere in basketball.

In 3 pointers.

In steals.

In the celebrations.

Basketball gives us many things.

Friendships.

Memories.

Basketball is not for everyone.

Practices are long.

Games are exhausting.

All the extra work.

Might not seem appealing to some.

But to us It is everything.

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And yet many learn of the story one creates.

Through pencils and paper.

Through hours up late.

Oh books, you help me grow.

Teach me things I ought to have already known.

In my naïve shell, I know nothing.

The only way for me to learn is through your teaching.

Yes, parents are wise beyond age.

But even you teach them with the turn of a page.

Your words fill the world with joy and sorrow.

Tells history and possible futures unknown to most.

Yet when humanity puts you down, they are brought back to what they know.

A digital age full of color.

Where creativity flows.

And yet I vow to never forget the lessons you’ve shown me as I’ve grown.

“Ode to the solar system” By:Anna Malsam, Class of 2027 Oh, how the solar system makes me wonder, how the brightness of the stars shines so bright, how the moon shows itself only at night, how the colors can blind me with their light, Oh, how the solar system is its own phenomenon, the shooting stars can grant your wish, the dead quiet it has within it, it’s a void yet filled, it’s dark yet bright, oh, how it fills me with wonder.

Kenna Williams, Class of 2027

“Ode to Party Shoes” By: Izabella DiGiovanni, Class of 2025

“An Ode to childhood” By: Olivia Ferrell, Class of 2027

My right-hand man Since 2020 With your colors fading And fabric tearing Stained with mixtures Of drinks and dirt But oh, so reliable For quick adventures From Waffle House To Halloween parties Your reliability shines Brighter than your stains You’ve felt the warmth at the beach And the rain in thunderstorms Even being oh s-so trashed You somehow pull through

I’ll always remember and forget you I’ll remember running and playing with my cousins Going to Paw Paw and Granny’s house almost everyday During the summer going to the lake And spending hours there I’ll remember the countless birthdays Spent with friends and family I’ll remember the car rides to school With my sister and my cousin Begging them to play One Direction or Taylor Swift I’ll always remember and forget my childhood

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“On the line”

By Gabe Miller, Class of 2028

“Beach”

By Jillian Ramsey, Class of 2028

With the snap of the ball, And the thought of our opposing team’s great fall, With the grass on my cleats, And the sun below our feet.

Then with the push and the shove, And the ball flying above.

The training that lead up to this, Have the crowd cheer is such a bliss.

Then after the battle of strength and will, And with the fierce skill, With bruises and no fear.

With blood and a few tears, The battle was won, And our job is done.

The crystal blue water On the beautiful beach Nothing in the world was a bother All I could think was how the beach was in reach With the sun in the sky And shells in the sand And in the sand I lie While I’m getting a sandy gritty tan

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By Lauren Pearce, Class of 2028 All mirrors are the same.

They may be different sizes or Different shapes, But you see the same thing in everyone.

When you wake up, To when you go to bed, It’s always the same image looking back at you.

If you look too deeply, The mirror grows its own eyes.

You fall into a portal, Suddenly it’s not a reflection.

It’s like a stranger gazing at you.

It’s not the same person.

But it’s always the same mirror.

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Ava Lantrip, Class of 2029

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“My first Deer”

By Henry Walpole, Class of 2030

“Cherry blossoms”

By Evan Lancaster, Class of 2030

As the gun went off, the bullet screamed forward, The deer dropped dead, I felt a sigh of relief. I had finally done it. I was greeted by cousins and family with hugs and congratulations.

Excitement ran from me I had blood on my face and kept the shell. It all went by so fast and was so exciting. I wanted to do it Again. The blood on my Face, the attention, The congratulations, All of it was amazing.

We took the gutless deer to the processor and went back to Ruston.

I love Hunting!

There was once a day When I was sitting on the high balcony The morning wind whipped through my hair Along with it came something beautiful Cherry blossoms.

As I sipped my tea the wind whipped them through the air, Like a kite in flight, a paper in the wind, Or like a dandelion in the breeze.

I was mesmerized, It was like a movie scene Sitting there thinking to myself, How can this be so magical

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By Averie Moon, Class of 2028

Henry Patton, Class of 2029

I unbox this shiny new circular object: Shiny and bright.

It is shaped like a circle With little triangles And diamonds on top.

I touch the crown And set it on My head.

The crown lightly Pressed up against My blonde hair.

I gently press My fingers Over the top Of it.

To me, I felt Like Miss America with It on.

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“Free”

by Juliette Sewell, Class of 2030 The breeze blows pieces of hair from my face, A door squeaks as it opens, I see the family I love, the awful blue couch, A memory flashes by, one of a car and a dog, a Sunday afternoon, The last time this happened, I sat. I begin reliving the moment, When the faith of the dog had been told.

A voice, it calls out to me - I have cancer, I look up, see the worried faces above me, I feel numb, the terrible couch, It feels itchy, my heart is beating - I do not cry, I feel numb, I want to hide, tears fall around me, I feel numb, two years pass, Cancer free! I do not feel numb, I do not hide, I celebrate, my mom feels free, She feels cancer free. No need to hide, The family full of happiness, I feel a breeze, I remember a time, I thank God, for my family, for my mom, cancer free.

I feel free.

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By Davis Durrett, Class of 2030 It’s not easy being a villain Constantly in your master's shadow waiting for your moment to shine just For it to never come.

It makes one feel Insane and that all Of this is vain.

It’s not easy being a villain.

Everyone hates you; they treat you as trash and no matter how many times you seek to be understood, you never truly are.

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Yet you continue to chase something that you know you will never deserve.

It’s not easy being a villain, Always cast in a sour limelight And every moment of your life is a fight That you know you will never win But pure unbridled rage keeps you going Day and night constantly trying to live up to those before you Even though every time that you try you fail.

It’s not easy being a villain…

“Severus Snape”

By Charlotte Jones, Class of 2030 The chill of the night wind flows in As I stare out the window – a light catches my eye I see the shape of a glowing silver doe The doe which protects me from harm And brings back memories too painful to relive I remember – oh yes, I remember I remember the warmth of the flower’s gaze The soft smile in which she laid upon me The way she was taken from me I draw from the pocket of my robe the paper The paper which was addressed to her lover - and not me My beautiful Lily Who will never awaken from her forever sleep of death I stand there in the dead of night The black of my robes flowing around me I remember my forever task – protect the child Then against my will from the depths of my mind - I remember It is time I stand there in the dead of night and wish it could be different I walk up the tower to do the unthinkable draw my wand and say the words And then he was gone

“Our Hallway”

By Layla Jeansonne, Class of 2030 There it stood, in front of my face, The door that led me to our hallway.

That hallway had special memories, And my favorites were the ones of you and me, Where you whispered secrets to me, And where we would talk all night, And the ones where I made you laugh, so loud, our hallway echoed, Throughout our homes’ walls.

When that door closed and you had to step out, Our hallway swallowed all my dreams.

The dreams that I dreamt were about, you and me, And where you would not just disappear.

Every morning, when the sun’s golden shine reaches my window, And I step lightly out that door into our hallway, I cannot help myself but look at Your door, where You used to be.

I can only hope that one day, that Very Special Day, I have been waiting for, You will once again walk into our beloved hallway, And dreams would not be dreams anymore, They would be our reality, and you would not leave me again.

But still to this day, you have not walked into our hallway, Which breaks me to pieces, Like a puzzle, hard to put back together.

But I know, very well, That you will, somehow,

In some way, in Any Way, Will walk into our sacred hallway, where you and I will rejoice, at last, And forever it shall be known as, Our Hallway.

Dedicated to my cousin, Delaney, who I love, Very much, including our hallway.

“I Can Sing”

By Saanvi Patel, Class of 2030 I can sing, Heart pumping, movements chained, With my Hand, The mic I favor— echos with my voice.

I can sing, Jumping around, Proud and enunciate, My smile grows, I listen as I hear my voice— The voice I never knew could be so vibrant and smooth.

My voice beams, my arms moving along the beat.

I can sing, Waking forward, the audience watches, Proceeding along, posing with fashion.

I sing with glory, I dance like a shadow.

Reaching out, I see the lights.

Shining on me, the light of the show.

I can sing, My hair flows, My body grooves, To the beat, I sink in.

Inside my room, with an invisible mic and an audience of stuffed animals watching me walk along my bed, with the door closed.

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“Gone”

By Jamie Lynn Hilburn, Class of 2030 We were gathered In what felt Like a tiny Living room When we received The news, She was gone, Her last breaths the Night before It sank in like a knife To your hand.

Made your Heart feel Like it was being Crushed, And made your whole body Shake.

We weren’t Expecting any Of it, But it hit, Like a Hurricane She wanted Us to not Grieve but Be happy Over the Life she Lived, but Death is just A long Sleep.

And we’ll See her Again in The near Future In heaven As an Angel.

I have come To peace

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With knowing That she Will always Be watching Over me Even when I don’t Know it

“At Peace”

By Jasmine Gill, Class of 2028 Feeling the wind blowing on my neck, Out here all things were silent, I no longer felt it to be unfair, Ignoring anything that could be violent.

Listening to the rustling of the leaves, Trying to remember how to breathe, I felt the cold and pulled down my sleeves, Wishing it all was a simple dream.

The crunching of the leaves beneath me, Looking to the night sky above, I tried my best not to turn around, Knowing I deserved to be loved.

Maybe I should finally open my eyes, And stop constantly asking myself- why.

“An Ode to New Books”

By Frances Sewell, Class of 2030

An Ode to Books, And the Mysteries they hold, Like a case needing to be solved.

The many genres, Romance, Mystery, The best of all, Fiction,

The wind was icy and hissing, But not one came to my aid.

I became the person everyone thought I was, Evil, Wicked, Sinister, Constantly called the bad guy.

People shiver at my, disgusting, name.

Handling Stress, Anger, Pressure, Until I finally snapped.

Desiring revenge, Wanting everyone to feel my wrath, My red-hot Fury, And the years of hurt, I’ve experienced.

Battle after battle, Wounds after being pummeled.

Victories that turn into losses, Until I realized, I will always be beaten by a hero, But I will no longer yield, to myself.

An Ode to books, And the authors who make them, Where would books be, Without the creative minds.

“Ode to Baseball”

By Kingston Culpepper, Class of 2030

the fresh parchment, the smooth new pages.

The feeling of Joy when reading, an Ode to Books and the stories they hold, the excitement on each page like a surprise birthday,

“The Villain’s View”

By Ainsley Bridges, Class of 2030 Poor, Rugged, and Helpless.

Rags on my body, Cries for help surrounding my world, But I cannot be of any assistance.

For I was forced into war, My hands now stained with the crimson red blood, Of my brothers and sisters.

Only to end up cold and secluded, Isolated, Desperate for help.

My own universe being Annihilated, Right before my eyes.

My parents disowned me, My friends abandoned me.

No companion, No help, I turned as cold as the winter snow, And smeared with death as dark as the night.

Ode to baseball The best sport of all This sport is for everybody Big and small No other sport Is as exciting as baseball You can field a ground ball Catch a fly ball Hit a home run Back to the track It’s gone You can throw a runner out Steal a bag Or take a walk Baseball is the best sport I promise you it’s true See for yourself And I bet you would agree Just like me Baseball is a never ending party Trust me you’ll see

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“Dear Football”

By Micah Taylor, Class of 2028

Sounded like A herd of elephants Running at you.

Dear Football, As soon as I Walked into that locker room.

Seeing all the Helmets and Pads I could tell.

I was going to love you.

We’ve made it through Adversity and fear.

And we always had that Taste of victory Every once in a while.

We’ve gone through some years Of blood sweat and tears, And coaches yelling at Us like a dad yelling at His kids.

The only team We had trouble with Was Glenbrook Their logo was like Our kryptonite But we fought back.

And beat them.

We’ve gone through Years of football Big games with Glenbrook And small games with River Oaks Dads in the stands Stomping like elephants.

Through the mucky Muddy mess And the humid hot heat After tasting mud And tasting sweat we’ve made It to the end We’ve made it through.

Countless hours of Training and practicing To become who we Are now.

During those big games And small games Every time we scored, To see the crowd erupt Just made my day.

Every time my team And I Ran out on That field it

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Thank you for An amazing Three years.

I knew I was going to Love you.

Ever since I walked into that locker Room with all the Helmets and pads.

Love you always, Micah Taylor

“Dear Christmas Magic”

By Hadley Gatlin, Class of 2028 Dear Christmas Magic, From the moment when the elf arrived, To when the gifts were under the Christmas tree I knew how much I loved you There are some things in life everyone loses.

Some are surprises.

Some things you don’t choose.

It can be an accident Or just meant to be.

Oh, Christmas Magic, I didn’t know how much you meant to me.

While parts of you remain the same, Some of you is forever changed.

The smell of cookies baking in the oven And the sweet taste of cinnamon and sugar These two are still here But not left out for Santa.

Waking up Christmas morning Shaking every box Anxious for what’s inside.

Hearing the sound of ripping The wrapping paper.

Christmas time used to be A warm hug Christmas time used to be As fast as a train Now it’s just normal Now that you’re gone I wish you were still here But you are not Now that I’m older Not so young I still wish for you to be here But you are not Every year I wait For you to come back You never do Poof! There goes the Christmas Magic!

Love, Hadley

Watching the sky to catch a glimpse of Santa’s sleigh, The excitement no longer jumps up and grabs me.

Jingle jangle jungle The bells are no longer ringing.

My Christmas list used to be a mile long, Now it is short.

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“Dear Middle School Football”

By Cason Floyd, Class of 2028 Dear Middle School Football From the time I was bribed To play you By a coach.

I have loved you.

You became A new love For me.

I love you because You are a Game of speed.

You are a Game of Toughness. You are A game Of roughness.

You are a Game of Gathering. You provide Happiness and sadness.

You are a game of Emotion. To me You are a game of Meaning.

The memories you Bring me.

They are so Special. The touch of The ball. The smell Of sweat. The taste Of the food after a Game. The noise from The stands. Visualizing Where to run the ball.

Running someone over Like a bulldozer is a Great feeling.

The whistle Sings its song after The play is over.

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Fifteen to fourteen, Final finishing score I ran faster than A cheetah on the Football field.

Zoom, I flew Past them.

Middle school football Is over, So I move Up to high school Football.

I will continue To do what I love Which is Football.

“Dear Deer Season”

By Thomas Waller, Class of 2028 Walking on grass To not make too Much noise. We Walked across a Small, metal Bridge that laid Across the creek.

It was the Golden Gate Bridge.

The birds were Chirping. The stand Was just on top of The hill looking over Everything. It was A castle on a hill.

We wait a few more Minutes until we Decided to leave.

It started to get dark Now. It’s about 6:00.

We start walking back, And get in the truck to Leave you. As we drive Home I think about you Excited for the next time We meet.

We opened up the Stand and smelled The cold inside.

We cleaned out The wasp nest and Slowly got in, not Making a sound.

We waited a few Hours. Trying to Find anything.

We see a few doe But don’t shoot.

I pull out a Moon Pie we got on the way To you. I tasted the Chocolate and Marshmallow on my Tongue. The marshmallow Was like a hard rock.

We see a big buck That was 1000 yards Out. It didn’t have enough Points so we don’t shoot.

We start to think we Aren’t going to get Anything tonight.

Will Myers, Class of 2028

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“Dear Basketball”

By Sydney Vance, Class of 2028 Dear Basketball, You have my heart.

My favorite sport From the exciting wins Fun practices Nice coach.

All the great things you came with.

The smell of stale sweat in the gym Sad losses.

Last game.

All the sad things you came with.

But good things can’t always be good.

I can still feel the electric energy in the team huddles, The feeling of my knees hitting the floor The grip of the ball as I pass it.

The sound of the clock at the end of the game The sight of the angry ref towards the other coach The taste as the water hits my tongue.

The aggressiveness every game.

Calm cool collected.

What every player has to be when playing a sport.

Flash, past, and a blast.

The 3 words to describe this season.

The rushed games.

The coach I leave behind.

And the fun it brought.

As I step off the court, I’m not sad.

It’s a feeling of peace and joy and satisfaction.

Moving on is tough but I will continue.

The best and most fun years of my life And I loved every second of it.

I always wanted to practice.

And I’ve always loved this game.

The time has run out.

We run to a team huddle.

Our last team huddle.

Ended the year with a win.

8 wins 4 loses.

It’s not a sad end; it’s a good end.

One filled with amazing memories.

But the best memories are with the team.

Basketball is like a family.

The awesome team.

And uplifting coach.

And loud fans.

The amazing feeling.

I feel like a magic carpet when I fly down the court.

And a giraffe when I tip the ball.

YAY! The crowd's excitement.

Getting ready to watch a fun game.

I have to get ready to play.

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Felicity Hunt, Class of 2026

“Dear Middle School Basketball”

By Mary Claire Temple, Class of 2028 Dear Middle School basketball, The loud buzzer, sings its song.

The basketball gripped my hand.

The smell of the newly waxed floor.

The look of the full audience.

The taste of the cold Powerade.

To most people, those things seem boring, but to me, that makes up why I love basketball.

Middle school basketball built me as a player.

I got better and better everyday.

I will continue to get better, and do what I love which is basketball.

Basketball to me is like a rush.

My heart races, from the start of the game till the last second.

Running up and down that court, time after time.

There are 10 people on that court, but in my eyes it’s just me, the goal and the basketball.

When the I’m on that court, I’m like a cheetah.

I fly through everyone straight to the same old goal.

I defend like a brick wall.

Liam Durrett, Class of 2029

I’m just starting my basketball lifestyle.

Middle school is over, so we move on to high school basketball.

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“A Test” By: Georgia Greene, Class of 2029 One winter morning in the town of Bemidji, Minnesota, 2009, school was waiting for me. As I walked to school, my boots sank in the 8 inches of snow. I preserved through it reaching the building.

The rather large Bemidji High School sign greeted me. I walked in waiting to be approached by a loud, high anxiety school, but was not. There only was a terrifying silence.

Walking into my class, my teacher, who just so happens to be my mother, welcomed me in a cold and harsh manner as if she were made out of ice.

“Eleanor, surprised you came, I thought you were ill,” Mrs. Clark started. She sounded as soulless as she looked this morning.

“Well, we have a test, and you wouldn’t let me skip, but not being rude, I kinda wanted to stay home,” I replied grinning. She glared at me. She grabbed the tests as I walked and sat down at my desk. I grabbed a pencil and out of nowhere she aggressively slammed the test in front of me. I was startled.

“What was that!” I demanded. Before I looked up, she walked out of the classroom.

I was furious, but maybe she woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Well, we all do sometimes.

I began the test, filled out the answers. That took about 3 minutes. Soon I encountered the last question.

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It was multiple choice. The question stated, “Can you survive a stab wound in the back?” What kind of test question is that? I don’t think I can, it depends on how deep it is. I looked at the options and it only said no. No? Why only no? I scratched out the question and decided not to answer it. I got out of my seat and walked to the desk to turn it in.

I was dumbfounded by the question still.

Yet, as I was about to turn around, I felt a throbbing, intense pain in my back. I wanted to scream, but nothing came out.

It felt like I was paralyzed. I was stabbed.

I fell to the floor. I looked behind me to see…

3 weeks later: “Mrs. Clark, I am very sorry but there is still no more evidence to the murder of your daughter, but we will continue to look,” The police officer replied. The officer walked away from my footsteps. I glided to the couch; tears ran down my face. I was left alone without my daughter. I hate empty houses, empty things, places. She’s... dead. Yet, there were no fingerprints and no evidence, nothing. But there was one thing, it was a test. *Knock Knock* I got up. I wiped my tears and went to the door. I opened it expecting to see the police, but there was an envelope. I grabbed it; walked to the table and sat in the wooden chair. While opening it, I got shivers as I examined the envelope. Nothing was on it. I then opened the envelope. The note read: “Are you sure you don’t know who killed your daughter? Well, we know what you’re up to Mrs. Clark. :)”

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“Imperfection?”

By: Preslee Prince, Class of 2029

You’re not as perfect as you think you are, Rose!” The words echoed in my head, cutting me like a thousand knives. I don’t like to think of defeat. In fact, I don’t like to think of anything that could even possibly upset me in the slightest. That breed of worry is for people who wear those abhorrent clothes and only ever have bread for supper. I think they’re referred to as “the poor.” I’ve always had everything I’ve ever wanted for as long as I can remember… gold, silver, diamonds, pearls (just to name a few). I believe that’s just what life is like when you’re rich. Never before in my life have I had an imperfect day, thought an imperfect thought, or slept an imperfect night, so naturally, I’d always thought it was just me. I am perfect. Yet, here I am, tears streaming down my face, pleading to have the one thing I can’t have —the one thing I would do anything to get—a prince. And not just any prince, my prince. My mother and father had always adored me as did everybody else, so why didn’t he? Why didn’t my prince love me?

Ainsley Dement, Class of 2026

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Bryce Martin, Class of 2026

Mallory Waller, Class of 2026

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Camden Napper, Class of 2027

Evie Stake, Class of 2025

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